Artificial Mates - Chapter 27

Demos got out of the shower with a towel around his waist. My eyes followed his beautifully sculpted back to Grant’s pod. He paid me no attention,I was sitting in the living room with my legs pressed against my chest. He had a second towel in his hand. My eyes instinctively followed his every movement, the curved of his chest as the muscled flexed on his arms. The way his short hair swirled on his neck. I shook my head trying to exorcise the images of our previous passionate kiss.

“Can I help you?” I asked as I got off the couch. His head sprung in my direction, he took a long moment before nodding. He pulled a chair and placed it in front of the pod.

“Can you hold this for me,” he handed me the damp towel, which I took without asking questions. With the lid open, he took Grant out holding him in his arms like a baby. It was quite a funny sight. He sat on the chair with Grant laying limp on his lap. Somehow, there was all kind of wrongs in this picture. I was scared the metal chair might collapse any minute. He pulled Grant’s t-shirt with one hand while holding his neck with the other.

“Mm, can’t we—just—like not undress him while he is unconscious. I-I feel very uncomfortable with this—” I squeezed the towel in hand feeling terribly nervous. Demos frowned at me.

“What’s wrong?” I lowered my eyes to my feet. “We’re just cleaning him up,” he added with a flat voice.

“Yeah—right,” my voice was too high to sound normal.

“Liliane, look at me!” my eyes met his as a reflex. “This is not wrong. This is not s.e.x.u.a.l,” my cheek flushed just hearing those words. What was wrong with my stupid mind? He chuckled at my reaction.

“Come here, silly,” he waved me to get closer. I hesitated but then sighed and stood next to him. He was extra cautious with Grant’s damaged hand as he removed the shirt. Seeing them like that reminded me of an old picture I saw of one of Michelangelo’s sculptures depicting the V.i.r.g.i.n Mary holding her dead son. I shook my head at that absurd thought. They sure were sculptures that talked and moved. Beautiful pieces of art made of soft synthetic flesh. Art that confessed their feelings. “Liliane, I love you.” Shit! My naughty mind kept dragging me back to that kiss. His voice sounded so desperate. I shivered at the memory.

“Liliane?” Demos’ voice snapped me away from my thoughts. I blinked at his extended hand. “The towel!” he urged, I quickly nodded. Then noticed Grant’s pants were gone leaving him wearing only his black boxer. I dropped the towel in his hand and took a step back with my heart hammering. I was scared he might overhear it from where I was standing.

“If one day you’re sick, I’ll take care of you,” he muttered without looking at me. I didn’t understand what he meant right away. “When you’re too old to take care of yourself—I’ll be here,” I frowned at his words. I was afraid I heard him wrong. He looked up at me and our eyes met. They were warm and loving. My heart skipped a beat. Such thoughts have never even crossed my mind. Shit! It was too much for me to handle. I might die of a heart attack right here. Right now!

“Demos—” I felt my knees going weak. He smiled and kept wiping Grant’s chest, Demos cupped his head lovingly. So much sweetness irradiated from this simple gesture. An abysmal pain gripped my chest. No word could express this one fleeting sensation.

“Here,” he slowly turned to me with the towel. I fell to my knees in front of them unable to process what was happening. It was not just cleaning a stain off a machine. It was far more profound. Something, I couldn’t quite explain. Something, I don’t think I fully understood. My fingers shook as I grabbed the soaked towel. He squeezed his hands on mine guiding it to Grant’s face. Goosebumps broke all over my body. My breath was raspy.

“Grant, unlike me has a very romantic idea about this world. Everything we are experiencing, we are doing it for the first time. Every sensation, situation, color, movie, everything,” a small smile lit his face. I’ve never been this intimate with any of my three previous exes. “Liliane—I know it will take time. But—can you please be honest with us?” my hand stopped moving. The white stains were almost gone. He took his hand away. I couldn’t look him in the eye. My guilty seemed to choke me. His hand stroked my hair away from my face.

“You don’t have to answer right now—” I got to my feet squeezing the towel until my knuckles turned white. His eyes followed me.

“I’ll rinse the towel, I’ll be right back,” I walked mechanically to the bathroom. Twisted the tap open in the sink. The water gushed out on the towel. I frenetically slammed my fists into it. What the actual f.u.c.k was I doing? This was simple, yes or no, kind of situation. I’ve hugged them, kissed them and yet I denied them my heart. I was ridiculous. I needed them. Yes, I admit I do. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to even think I felt something—anything for them. I sighed, squeezed the tap shut and stared at my red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.

“You’re pathetic, Liliane” I muttered at my reflection. I giggled and shook my head. Here I was talking to myself. I was losing some screws. Get your shit together. Demos was right.

“Liliane, everything ok in there?” called Demos. I quickly squeezed the water out of the towel and went to meet him. I greeted him with a tight smile and he responded with a questioning gaze. We finished cleaning Grant in silence. I got a plain white blouse that I usually wear for official gathering at work and a black pair of jeans hoping that I could get them back when Sognare was done with the repairs. Demos placed Grant back in his pod then dump the towel in the washing machine along with all the other dirty laundry. Meanwhile, I sat in front of the TV zapping through the channels without really watching. I grabbed a pear from the fruit basket and dug in.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to cook dinner?” asked Demos from the kitchen. The washing machine slowly buzzed.

“No. Don’t worry. I’m getting all the vitamins and sugar I need. Fruits are healthy, right?” he slowly nodded as he came to sit next to me. I snuggled against him, his arm went around my shoulder.

“I’m sleepy,” I yawned leaning my head on him.

“It’s ok, you can sleep. I’ll watch over you,” I smiled watching the images flashed on the screen.

Helios: Two logs. GRANT

>PLAY

Her fingers gripped the front of my shirt wrinkling the fabric, time slowed down to milliseconds. Her lips swollen by Demos’ kiss parted sucking in a breath. She blinked, her warm brown eyes focused on me, only me. Pupils dilated—in need. My interpretation might be wrong. The distance taking forever to close between us. Air swooshed by as her hair moved away from her face. I could see my own reflection in her glasses. For that prolonged moment of doubt, several thoughts crossed my mind. However, I held on only one, she was going to kiss me and that made me the happiest artificial in the whole world. I was so happy that the contact of her lips made my circuit go supernova. I didn’t recover even when her lips moved away from mine. I blinked, in shock of such an impact. My first kiss. Fantastic.

REPLAY